


Flip

by yeaka



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Ficlet, M/M, Master/Servant, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thomas’ valet is a sly but pretty thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “oral sex” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/149673766130/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Downton Abbey or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Jimmy Kent goes about his duties with an airy silence that instantly raises Thomas’ suspicion—Jimmy’s usually quite talkative. He’s learned by now that Thomas isn’t nearly so strict as his last employer. At least, Thomas isn’t where _Jimmy_ is concerned, which the fact that Thomas even allows the nickname should more than indicate—the butler Jimmy last served under insisted on calling him ‘James,’ which he told Thomas around a sneer. It was all too easy for Thomas to purr a sultry ‘ _Jimmy_ ,’ and light a glowing smile on his face. He’s at his most handsome when he smiles.

So Thomas is pleased when Jimmy turns away from the wardrobe with a new grin across his attractive features, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His only flaw—aside, perhaps, from an occasional bought of laziness—is his ego. But it serves Thomas well; Jimmy’s never quite learned that not only does Thomas see his deceptions coming, but knows several moves ahead.

Thomas returns a lazy smile anyway and fiddles with his cuffs, deliberately fumbling so that Jimmy will come to him and help. Jimmy pulls them loose with an exaggerate grace and his blond head bowed, blue eyes flickering between his fingers and Thomas’ eyes. Jimmy doesn’t help with the rest of the shirt, just sinks to his knees at Thomas’ feet, starting in on Thomas’ boots. This is where Thomas likes him best—knelt before his lord, in private chambers, only an arm’s length from the bed, his clever hands in full service to his master. He pulls slowly at the laces and notes suddenly, “Forgive me, Lord Barrow, but you’ve seemed tense lately.” His voice is lowered in a supple coo, clearly meant to seduce. Thomas has to stifle the knowing smirk that wants to twist along his lips. 

“I suppose so,” Thomas muses, though in truth, nothing’s been amiss of late. Life is _always_ difficult for a man of both his power and proclivities, but he’s always been adept at hiding that part of himself. Hiring such an attractive valet complicated things for a while, but now he’s quite convinced he’s earned some of Jimmy’s trust, and he sees the ambition in Jimmy’s eyes. A subtle touch here, a stray favour there... Jimmy _knows_ he’s the favourite of Thomas’ staff, and he responds well to it. 

He finishes one boot and shifts to the other, only to pause and look up, gaze blazing as he purrs, “Perhaps there is some way I could help... ‘relieve’... that tension...” His eyes flicker subtly to Thomas’ crotch, where only years of practice keep a tent from forming. Thomas is careful not to react to the implication—neither discouraging nor too eager. Jimmy arches his body forward, hands lifting from Thomas’ boots to just above, fingers spread along Thomas’ legs. He slips his pink tongue between his plush lips and slowly traces them, making them glisten wetly—Thomas has had too many daydreams about how talented that tongue must be. How talented _Jimmy_ must be. The fact that he has the confidence to even try this speaks volumes. Perhaps Thomas’ lingering looks have been a tad too obvious. Face level with Thomas’ crotch, Jimmy murmurs, “I’m quite good at giving _release_ , your lordship...”

With just the barest flicker of audible interest, Thomas asks, “What exactly are you suggesting, Jimmy?” He needs to make Jimmy say it. It would be an abuse of power for him to outright suggest anything first, and that’s not what he wants Jimmy for, not really, not when Jimmy gives him another clever smile and leans forward to place a chaste kiss over Thomas’ trousers. Thomas can’t help himself; his cock twitches under the attention. His breath hitches. He gives a wavering, deceptively worried, “ _Jimmy_...”

But that seems to be just what Jimmy’s looking for, and his wicked smirk seems to say: _don’t worry; I’ll take care of you._ He unfastens the front of Thomas’ trousers with smooth efficiency, staring up the whole time, holding Thomas’ gaze, and Thomas drops a hand into Jimmy’s impossibly soft curls. Then Jimmy’s reaching inside the layers of fabric that a valet never touches on their lord, right down to bare skin, and Jimmy’s fingers wrap around Thomas’ shaft. Thomas lets out a little groan, lashes falling for one quick moment. Jimmy pulls Thomas out into the air and ducks down to press his tongue flat along the underside, then drags it straight up to the tip, and the burst of pleasure mingled with the erotic sight almost makes Thomas dizzy. It’s been far, far too long. And he’s dreamed of this, since the first night he hired James Kent to be his footman. The livery Jimmy wears only makes it hotter; it reminds Thomas that Jimmy will sleep right here tonight, in _Thomas’_ estate, maybe even in his bed.

Jimmy pauses at the tip to kiss the pink head, then finally closes his eyes, opening his mouth wide instead, and he takes Thomas onto his tongue. He pushes himself down, his hands still holding the base, but now Thomas is fully hard, only getting harder—Jimmy’s mouth is an abrupt rupture of heat and delicious pressure; the walls of his mouth tight and slick, and Jimmy does move with practice, sliding right down, taking more and more, until his nose is burying into the dark curls at Thomas’ base. Thomas can feel the back of Jimmy’s throat twitching against him, and he has to fight the embarrassing moan that wants to wrack its way through his body. He doesn’t want to let on how much he _wants this_. He can’t let Jimmy know how much he _needs this_. How much he’d do to keep it going, to get _more_ , to have Jimmy not just at his feet but _by his side_...

Jimmy gives a little suckle, and Thomas breaks, letting his chin fall against his chest as he groans. Both hands now thread into Jimmy’s golden locks, and Thomas pets back through them, holding Jimmy on. Jimmy hollows out his cheeks and sucks harder, better, wet and wondrous, then pushes away to slowly slide back again. Thomas watches his rigid length reappear between them, shining in the low lamplight with Jimmy’s spit, Jimmy’s full lips stretched to their limit. It’s a sight Thomas wants to memorize. Jimmy’s eyes stay mostly closed or half-lowered, but occasionally they flick up through thick lashes to catch Thomas’ gaze. Thomas is mesmerized. He watches Jimmy slide on and off at an increasing rhythm, brain drowning in sheer _pleasure_.

Jimmy’s ridiculously good at this. Of course he would be. He knows how good he looks. He sucks at Thomas’ cock with a ravenous enthusiasm and bobs eagerly up and down, taking it right down his throat every time. Thomas’ breath is ragged, heart hammering in his chest. It’s all he can do not to scream loud enough to wake the maids. He moans just enough to reward Jimmy’s efforts, to show that Jimmy’s skill is _very_ much appreciated, and he wants to keep Jimmy interested—he tries to be pretty about it, tries not to buck forward or make crude sounds or grab too hard at Jimmy’s hair. Thomas is always calculated—it’s the only way to survive, to get what he wants—but Jimmy robs his brain of coherency, and his hips tremble with the effort of not slamming into Jimmy’s face. 

He holds off as long as he can—wants to savour this—but he just wants Jimmy so much and _can’t_ take it anymore; he shoots one hand back up over his mouth to stifle his scream. His cock spills into Jimmy’s mouth, and Jimmy only burrows deeper, letting it stream down his throat, swallowing rapidly to keep up. Even through the overwhelming orgasm, Thomas tries to pay attention. He feels heady and numbly perfect, but stares doggedly down at the way Jimmy’s cheeks hollow with his suction, the feeling of his throat collapsing when it swallows. It’s complete bliss. Jimmy takes it all, until Thomas has nothing left, and is dizzily stepping back, letting his spent cock slip out of Jimmy’s open mouth. 

Jimmy follows it to kiss the flagging shaft, then purrs near-casually, “Of course... if you had a better butler, things might also run smoother...”

Thomas resists a snort. He should’ve known Jimmy would have a direct goal at the end. But Thomas would happily banish every other member of staff and let Jimmy have any title he wanted, so long as _this_ could work. He only hopes power isn’t the only thing Jimmy’s after. He hopes that’s just the excuse Jimmy needs to justify leaving girls. Thomas understands those kind of lies better than anyone. 

He concedes a vague, “Maybe,” and pets back through Jimmy’s now mussed hair. “Of course, then I wouldn’t have such a handsome valet at my feet...”

Jimmy grins wide with the compliment, eyes glinting in delight. Maybe he thinks he has Thomas wrapped around his finger.

Maybe he does. Thomas tugs lightly at his hair, and Jimmy lets himself be pulled up by it, so Thomas can kiss him hard and guide him to the bed.


End file.
